For the last several weeks, everyone has been abuzz about Earth Day being right around the corner. While I do appreciate the celebration of our zany world and the movement towards conserving what we have, April 22 has always meant a smidge more to me.
It’s my daddy’s birthday.
I’ve always been Daddy’s Little Girl with a twist. I’m not particularly spoiled by any stretch of the imagination, despite being an only brat, but I’ve always had a great deal more common with my dad. He taught me to love sports, although not his precious Cleveland Browns (I mean, seriously). My love of boxers comes from him (the pups, not the pugilists) and my dry sense of humor is 100% Pop. I wish I had more of his way with people, strangers and friends alike.
I know he wishes I was home more often, that he could see me more often, but he also understands that I needed to go explore other avenues. He has always loved me, supported me and trusted me and no number of blog posts can thank him for that.
I love you, Dad. Happy birthday.
L-R: my dad, my great-grandparents, my grandmother, aunt and grandfather. Easter Sunday 1940-something